


Rubber Ducky Road Trip

by Freebooter4Ever



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Eugene's mother is just happy to finally get her son out of the house for a while, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Road Trips, Rubber Ducks, Snafu accidentally adopts a dog, Snafu is a clueless little shit when it comes to love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freebooter4Ever/pseuds/Freebooter4Ever
Summary: Snafu gets it into his head to take a road trip out to the middle of nowhere and see the biggest duck in the world for himself. He picks Eugene up along the way, who is still slightly pissed at Snafu for leaving him sleeping alone on the train. "You said picking me up was a 'stop along the way'," Eugene argues. "I said it's a stop along my way. Never said my way was the most direct," Snafu retorts.
Relationships: Merriell "Snafu" Shelton/Eugene Sledge
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Rubber Ducky Road Trip

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr but I'm slowly moving my random one shots over there onto here too. ^_^ Please please leave comments, they fuel me to write more! Inspired by that goofy photo of Joe in oklahoma with the giant rubber duck.

Snafu doesn't understand civilian life. The things most of his neighbors consider commonplace - well balanced meals, regular showers, polite conversation, underwear - Snafu no longer has the patience for. He was never a good civilian before the war, and he's an even worse one after. Not like Eugene with his perfect manners, and stalwart ideals, and easy conversation. If Snafu imagines a model upstanding citizen, Eugene Sledge's face is the first to pop into mind. A deep indefatigable ache comes with it.

Eugene's face also brings to mind guilt. In two forms - one: guilt for having cut off all contact with him, and two: guilt for having had any contact with him in the first place.

Snafu doesn't kid himself - Sledgehammer probably would never have gotten through the war on his own. But Eugene Sledge always deserved better. Snafu knows Eugene got off that train to meet a welcoming party, exactly like Burgie. He'd been watching Eugene's face when Burgie hugged his little brother tight. Eugene was looking at them with understanding, empathy. He wasn't baffled by the scene, like Snafu was.

Snafu got off the train to nothing but crowds of strangers. He disappeared. And hoped Eugene would imagine a lie when he thought of Snafu's homecoming. Maybe a father who stayed up all night just to be there at the station at three am, a mother who had food waiting just for him, a house warm and clean for his little sister to actually have a childhood in. Anything Eugene could invent is probably better than the reality Snafu never told him about.

When Snafu imagines Eugene's civilian life, he imagines white picket fences, and a hoard of smiling extended family wearing bright clothes in the sun, and lots of unnecessary hugs. That's where Eugene would fit in. That's what Snafu wants for Gene.

All the things a good civilian is supposed to have in their life. None of which make any damn sense to him. He's still young, which keeps off most of the pressure to become respectable. But he sees the odd looks thrown his way, he knows the talk. Every bit of gossip compounded now that he's a veteran, and suddenly that means his vices can be overlooked - that means he's  _ eligible _ . But only if he keeps up appearances. Only if his nightmares stick to night.

What a joke.

He expounds upon this topic loudly and at length to anyone who will listen. Very often this means to his coworkers during after work drinks, sometimes over a game of cards. It doesn't make him many friends.

On one such night, a few years after V-J day, one of the coworkers tosses a strange yellow toy into the betting pool.

"What the fuck?" Snafu asks, snatching the thing up, "You trying to cheat us? Ain't no way this is worth anything."

Apparently, though, it is. The little yellow toy is called a "rubber duck" and it's the latest craze to hit the United States. The things are selling out everywhere, and they're on every child's wish list this winter. Not that Snafu would ever know what the latest trends are. He doesn't follow fads or styles. He understands them even less than he understands civilians complaining about things like slow service or cold weather. And this new yellow toy is the worst trend yet. Personally, Snafu thinks it's the ugliest thing he's ever seen - plus it looks nothing like any duck seen in the wild.

His coworkers laugh at him and chide him for being a confirmed bachelor with no kids at home throwing tantrums over toys. As if that's something Snafu could even begin to understand. This generation of children - demanding toys instead of being grateful for what they got.

He wins the card game and collects his money, but promptly tosses the duck to the first child he passes in the street.

Somehow word gets around that Snafu Shelton is giving away rubber ducks, because the next time he steps foot outside of his apartment, the grubby neighborhood kids swarm him like he's Santa Claus or some shit. He barely escapes with his life.

Luckily Snafu knows a friend in the rubber manufacturing business, and a week later a sack full of duck toys just happens to fall off the back of his friend's truck. Snafu distributes them amongst the neighborhood. It's not a free for all, he carries one or two around in his pocket and hands the ducks off to the weird kids. The small runty ones wearing castoff clothes too big for them, who come home from school with bruises and empty stomachs. Snafu remembers what it's like being small and watching fads pass by instead of taking part. 

So Snafu is less like Santa Claus and more like a kingpin throwing wrenches into the carefully balanced schoolyard popularity hierarchy.

This being a poorer neighborhood on the outskirts of New Orleans, no one really has the means to designate social status. It's all just silly things like who can afford something as small and inessential as a rubber duck and who can't. Snafu himself rents a shitty top floor apartment with a private entrance that doubles as a fire escape. It isn't so much an apartment as it is a room with a twin bed. But there's trees all around, and a big window at the foot of his bed, and a narrow decorative balcony (the useless kind not meant to hold humans - another part of life Snafu doesn't understand) attached to the window.

The first thing Snafu bought after the war, even before he bought a bed frame, was a beautiful stone birdbath. The kind like the one in the park his mom used to take him to. They'd sit on the park bench, and spend hours watching the birds splash around, and it bored Snafu to tears but it was the only time of the week his mom didn't cry so he learned to sit as still as he could.

Snafu put his brand new birdbath on his useless balcony and for two years every spring morning he woke with the sun, crawled down his bed, and watched the birds sing their thanks through the open window.

This year, as winter approaches, Snafu looks at his now empty birdbath and gets an idea. He didn't keep any of the rubber duckies for himself, but luckily his friend in the business has connections and manages to get him one extra. And Snafu's lonely winter mornings are assuaged when he wakes to see a friendly yellow face bobbing happily in the cold bath outside his window.

Snafu thinks he's simply cleverly besting migratory bird patterns until more yellow ducks start showing up in his birdbath. This time wearing hand sewn floral bonnets, or flower crowns, or top hats, or in one particularly painful case - a tiny toy army helmet.

The little neighborhood shits are climbing his trellis to his balcony and putting the damn things in there at night. Every couple of days the rubber ducks will disappear only to be returned wearing new themed outfits. When Christmas comes and Snafu wakes to discover he has a completely full bird bath containing not only a duck wearing a santa hat but also all twelve reindeer ducks - one of which has a painted red nose - Snafu finally admits this fad is here to stay.

And that is how Snafu becomes known around town as the weird bachelor who collects rubber ducks.

It gets so bad even the secretary at the lumberyard where he works saves him a newspaper clipping about a town two states over. The girl sneaks it to him during lunch and Snafu reads the article over his shitty thermos of soup.

The world's largest rubber duck is being erected somewhere in Oklahoma by some hodunk town hoping to put themselves on the map by throwing excess rubber, no longer needed by the war effort, into a useless vanity project.

Idiots.

A few days later Snafu is playing cards, and winning as always, when he finds himself rethinking his stance on visiting other towns. He stops mid-sentence when he realizes he is having a conversation with his coworkers about ducks. And it's normal. And he doesn't want to roll his eyes right out of his head.

Maybe he is adapting to civilian life after all.

He collects his winnings and goes home. He ignores the New Years themed duck floating outside his window and goes straight to the crooked chest of drawers wedged in between his bed and the wall. He opens the top drawer, pries off the false bottom, and lets the stack of letters and all his life savings fall to the floor. He gathers up the letters carefully, leaves the money, and sits on his bed to read.

There are a bunch of letters - each addressed to Snafu in the same beautifully written cursive. The handwriting inside is neat, and elegant, and never strays from tight measured lines, as if the author places the blank sheet of paper over a lined page to use as a guide. If each letter wasn't signed with a no nonsense, perfectly legible "Eugene", Snafu would never guess they came from the same man he watched scribble away in a bible - writing that looked more like chicken scratch than actual words.

Snafu shuffles through the letters until he finds the one he's thinking of. Eugene's letters are full of normal things Snafu no longer relates to. They're artificially pleasant in the way of small talk, and say the kinds of things people who have nothing in common say to each other. Snafu doesn't like to think about him and Eugene no longer having anything in common. Whenever Snafu receives a letter, he reads it, feels his heart shrink two sizes smaller, and then slides the letter into his secret drawer to forget about it. If he hides it and doesn't reply he can pretend civilian Eugene would still care about him, no matter how all fucked up Snafu feels.

He never forgets what he reads though, and this letter in particular from a month ago details Eugene's new found hobby - bird watching.

Finally, they have something in common.

He scoops all his savings off the floor, adds his week's paycheck and tonight's winnings to the pile, and calculates how much gas he'll need. Then he fills up his truck, borrows a tent from his friend, and starts off down the road.

A day later he shows up on Eugene's porch.

He knows he made a mistake when a butler answers the door. It's shock that keeps him rooted to the spot for the few minutes it takes for Eugene to be called in from whatever activity Snafu interrupted. He knew Eugene was one of them rich kids, but a butler was beyond even his imaginings.

Shock keeps him there initially, but it's amusement that keeps Snafu on the porch when Eugene appears in the frame, takes one look at him, listens to Snafu's brief "I hear you like birdwatching" quip, and slams the door in his face without another word spoken.

Snafu can hear Eugene's mother's scandalized outrage through the walls of the house.

The door opens and an older woman with an aristocratic but comfortable air takes Eugene's place.

"I'm so sorry," she says, slightly out of breath, "Please, come in. Sit. I'll get you a glass of iced tea. I don't know what's gotten into that boy sometimes."

He and Mrs. Sledge exchange introductions, and she immediately recognizes his name.

"Oh, you're the one Eugene's been sending all those letters to," she says. She doesn't mention the tiny detail that Snafu never sends any letters back.

Snafu smiles and perches on a stiff chair in the parlor. He accepts the glass of tea, and drinks it to avoid awkward conversation.

Mrs. Sledge bustles around rearranging things to make more room, and also to avoid awkward conversation. "Eugene Bondurant Sledge!" she calls, "Get out here!"

Eugene obediently appears in the doorway, a petulant look on his face that Snafu knows well. Eugene's stubborn presence does nothing but force Mrs. Sledge and Snafu to carry the conversation.

"Your friend's come all the way from New Orleans to see you," Mrs. Sledge prompts.

Eugene remains silent. And standing.

"A stop along my way, actually," Snafu says. His charm is turned up as high as it will go. Partially out of respect for the mother of his best friend, and partially to see Eugene's blood pressure rise with every obsequious word out of Snafu's mouth.

"Oh, where are you headed?" Mrs. Sledge asks.

"Out aways, into the middle of nowhere. Woke up one morning and got it into my head I wanted to see the world's largest duck," Snafu may be talking to Mrs. Sledge but his eyes remain unwavering on Eugene.

"I dare say," Mrs. Sledge says, "And what species of bird is this exactly?"

"Can't be sure, ma'am," Snafu says, "That'd be more Eugene's area of expertise."

"Well, how big is the world's largest duck?" Mrs. Sledge asks.

"Don't know, haven't seen it yet," Snafu drawls with a grin.

Eugene looks fit to burst.

"How far do you have to go to find this bird?" Mrs. Sledge asks.

"Just a couple of days drive, maybe a week round trip," Snafu says, "Was gonna ask Eugene if he wanted to come along."

"What a splendid idea," Mrs. Sledge is delighted, "Eugene doesn't have any plans scheduled for the next few weeks. It'd do him good to get out for a while."

Eugene's petulance slowly transitions to horror as the conversation goes on and he realizes there is no polite way to extricate himself from this situation without disappointing his mother terribly.

Which is how Snafu ends up with a silent and surly Eugene sitting next to him on the bench seat in his truck's cab and a basket full of gifted provisions neatly tucked into his truck bed next to his borrowed tent.

Snafu fiddles with the radio, switching stations whenever he gets bored with whatever murder mystery radio play or big band music is being broadcast until they drive too far out into the sticks to get any kind of signal.

The minute he switches the radio off, Eugene finally speaks up.

"Since when are you interested in birdwatching?" Eugene's tone is accusatory.

"It was kinda forced on me," Snafu shrugs, "Or I forced it on myself. On accident."

"And we're going to see the world's largest duck?"

"Ahuh," Snafu agrees.

"And where would that be, exactly?"

"Oklahoma."

Eugene screws up his face. He pulls the atlas out from underneath the bench seat, and flops through it till he hits the southeastern United States.

"Alabama is not in between New Orleans and Oklahoma," Eugene points to the map. As if Snafu doesn't know his geography and Eugene needs to prove to him the position of Oklahoma and Mississippi.

"Never said it was," Snafu says calmly.

"You said picking me up was a 'stop along the way'," Eugene argues.

"I said it's a stop along  _ my _ way. Never said my way was the most direct."

Snafu keeps his focus on the road, but he can feel Eugene's eyes on him.

"Yeah? Missed you too, Snaf," Eugene says as if that answers an unasked question and settles more comfortably in his seat. He props the map up on his lap and traces the spider web of roads with his finger.

Everything goes smoothly the first day. They eat lunch on the side of the road. It's warm, and the heat of the truck's engine makes it warmer, but they prop the doors open to let a breeze flow through and make sandwiches from the food Eugene's mom packed. Snafu provides the desert. He brought a slender bar of chocolate, provisions in case Eugene turned him down.

Now he breaks it in half and shares it with Eugene. And then sits in silence in the heat, with his blood boiling, watching Eugene innocently suck melted chocolate from his fingers.

Eight hours of driving later when it's almost too dark to see they stake out the tent on a dirt field to sleep. Snafu tosses and turns until he rolls to face Eugene and finds wide unblinking eyes staring back at him. They decide sleeping on the ground isn't for them, and set the tent up in the bed of Snafu's truck instead. The wooden slats are hard and a little uncomfortable but it's different enough from memories that they're finally able to fall asleep pressed back to back.

The next morning is quiet, and still. They snack on fresh snap peas for breakfast and strike the tent in silence. They don't need to talk about it. Snafu senses Eugene's understanding. For once it's nice to not need to explain his particular brand of insanity.

Later on the road again, in between casual conversation, Eugene brings it up.

"Best sleep I've had in months," he says.

"Me too, Sledgehammer," Snafu admits.

On the second day it rains. At night they park at the edge of a small town in the lot of a gas station run by a friendly old lady who lets them use the outhouse on her property and the outdoor shower behind it. Snafu laughs at Eugene becoming so spoiled he needs daily baths now. And Eugene retorts that not everyone can have as nice of a natural musk as Snafu, and it's enough like a compliment to shut Snafu up real quick.

Snafu leaves Eugene toweling his wet hair dry in the truck cab, and runs across the few feet of muddy gravel to use the outhouse. When he comes back he starts to hastily climb into the truck, but stops when he notices a strange shadow under the carriage hiding from the rain.

He reaches over the bench and pokes Eugene awake.

"Flashlight," Snafu whispers, gesturing to the floor.

Eugene hands him the flashlight. And then pulls the blanket over his head to go back to sleep.

Snafu crouches on the runnerboard of the truck to keep his feet off the ground for an easy escape, bends down, and shines the light underneath.

A head lifts up and a pair of reflective eyes look back at him.

Snafu flicks the light off, lifts himself back into the cab and digs through the picnic basket for the leftovers from dinner.

"Snafu, what are you doing?" Eugene complains from under the blanket.

"Just give me a minute," Snafu says.

He jumps to the ground and waves a bite of chicken to the darkness under the truck.

"C'mon, boy," he says.

It doesn't take much to get the big shaggy dog out from underneath the carriage and into the cab. Eugene gets a rude awakening, however, when the dog decides to make a bed out of his lap.

Snafu can see Eugene jolt awake, but instead of kicking the weight off his lap, he just shifts to accommodate it.

"Snafu, next time warn me if you're going to sleep on me," Eugene grumbles.

"S'not me, boo," Snafu says with a grin.

Eugene peeks from behind his blanket, sees the dog, and promptly sits straight up in his seat. He grabs his towel and starts drying off some of the water and dirt matting the dog's fur.

The dog chooses that moment to fart.

Snafu starts laughing at Eugene's scandalized face that looks so much like his mother's, until Snafu starts choking from the smell, and then he leans over Eugene to roll the window down. Just a crack, enough for fresh air but not enough to let rain in.

It's rather cramped in the truck cab, with the tent (more useful keeping out mosquitoes than rain), and the picnic basket, and the two boys, and the dog, but they manage.

Snafu wakes up to whines. At first he thinks it's the dog. It's the middle of the night, there are no street lamps all the way out here, and he can barely see. Until there's a jerk of movement on the other side of the cramped bench seat and the dog climbs over Snafu to shelter under his feet.

"Eugene!" Snafu exclaims. He takes Sledge's arm and then remembers what happened the last time he watched someone being held down mid-nightmare. He keeps a safe distance and says loudly, "Sledgehammer!"

Eugene snaps awake. He lurches forward, and stops when he sees Snafu sitting up and watching him.

Snafu takes his hand then. Eugene twines their fingers together. He's still breathing hard with his mind half out of this world. Snafu can see it in his eyes. The dog wanders over and places his head back on Eugene's lap. Eugene looks down, sees the dog for the first time since he woke. He turns to Snafu.

"I didn't hurt you did I?" Eugene asks.

"No," Snafu says firmly.

Neither of them fall back asleep for a long while after that. 

The next morning the dog plods slowly along when they walk to buy groceries. He patiently waits outside the door for them to finish and plods along after them when they go back to the car. When they open the car door to wedge the grocery bag into the picnic basket, the dog jumps up and sits on the bench seat between them.

"I think you accidentally adopted a dog," Eugene tells Snafu.

Except it's Eugene who feeds the dog, and Eugene's lap that the dog chooses to sleep on most of the time, and Eugene who names the dog 'Fred'.

"What the fuck kind of dog name is that?" Snafu asks.

"Like you're one to talk  _ Merriell _ ," Eugene retorts. Eugene uses a fond tone for Snafu's given name like it's a good thing, and that throws him for a bit of a loop.

"Sure thing,  _ Bondurant _ ," Snafu croons.

Eugene throws a slice of turkey at Snafu's smiling face in response, which is a dreadful waste of food, but Freddie happily eats the discarded turkey and licks Snafu's face clean.

At one point the car breaks down. Fortunately it happens on a flat stretch of road so not only can they see the gas station in the distance, but it's also fairly easy to push the truck along. Snafu jerry-rigs a contraption to keep the steering wheel pointed straight, and off they go. The dog lumbers into the truck bed, watches them push for a bit, and then falls asleep in the sun.

When they reach the station, Snafu pays for use of the tools, but does all the repairs himself. The mechanic who runs the station is jovial and sharp tongued. He and Snafu trade stories and exchange barbs while Snafu works.

Eugene sits and waits in a camp chair off to the side, the dog in his lap and his fingers stroking the dog's fur. He watches Snafu with keen eyes, but doesn't say a word.

Snafu winks at Eugene when he peels his sweaty button down off and bends over the engine wearing nothing but his undershirt.

"Come on, Freddie, let's go for a walk," Eugene stands and leads the dog out of the garage.

They're not gone long. Fred isn't the 'go for a walk' type of dog. Eugene shows up again twenty minutes later carrying a large panting dog bundled in his arms.

"He got tired," Eugene explains.

Snafu hastily grabs a clean tin from the mechanic and fills it with water for the dog. When Eugene takes it from Snafu's hand, their fingers brush.

Snafu thinks about that brief second of contact for the rest of the day.

With the car up and running again, they finally reach their destination. It's around four pm, and the sun is beginning to set, but the baked dry land around them is still warm. The large rubber duck is not actually in town, though they have to drive through town to find it. The buildings still show the ravages of the dust bowl - peeling paint bleached by the sun, splintered wood, missing planks, weeds everywhere. Feels like home.

They take a turn onto a single lane of freshly paved road at the edge of town and drive to the end till there is nothing but fields around them.

"Snafu…" Eugene starts. Neither of them have gotten out of the truck yet. Fred is fast asleep between them, farting as usual.

Snafu grins wide, his hand tight on the steering wheel as he pulls the truck into park.

"Snafu, that is the ugliest sight I have ever seen in my life," Eugene states.

"Surely not the ugliest, don't you remember Leyden?" Snafu asks.

"I thought we were going to find the largest duck in the world?" Eugene asks.

"And here we are," Snafu gushes, gesturing to the view outside their windshield.

"You failed to mention the duck is rubber," Eugene says.

"Never asked," Snafu responds. He kicks the truck door open and jumps down excitedly.

In Snafu's mind, the world's largest duck does not disappoint. It's a good few feet taller than him and the duck's bill comes right up to his head. And if he leans his face forward enough he can make it look like the duck is either eating or kissing him.

"Snap a photo," he calls to Eugene with his head still in the duck's mouth.

Eugene clambers out of the truck to comply. Once done, Eugene sits on the curb and watches Snafu examine the duck.

Snafu circles the statue. He pokes at it and tries to gauge if it's actually made entirely of rubber.

"Think this thing's hollow?" Snafu asks.

"Like your head," Eugene drawls.

Snafu leans around the duck to grin at him.

"He's got your eyes," Eugene comments.

"You've been paying attention to my eyes?" Snafu goes round to the front of the duck and notices the eyes are painted an unnaturally vibrant shade of robin's egg blue.

"Hard not to Snaf, when you ask me if they're yellow every time I turn around," Eugene says.

"One time," Snafu says.

"Once was enough," Eugene says.

Snafu remembers that time. And if he remembers that time, the first time he touched Eugene's skin for reasons other than necessity, he also then remembers the more recent time, with the dog bowl. And his fingers start to itch.

He places his palms flat against the hot rubber of the duck. It smells like car tires, and wood chips, and fresh air and summer. There's no gasoline or any other rotting stench to remind him of other days involving the strong smell of rubber. This smell is childhood, and innocence.

Snafu looks over at Eugene.

Eugene meets his eyes. "I can't believe we drove all this way for a rubber duck," he says.

Snafu smirks and picks his way over to sit next to him. Their shoulders brush, and that is also a familiar touch.

"Not just any rubber duck, the world's largest," Snafu counters.

"They all look the same," Eugene says.

"Not true," Snafu says, thinking about his ever changing birdbath.

Eugene stands, marches to the truck, grabs the rubber duck off Snafu's dash, and sits back down. He places the duck in Snafu's hands.

"This one's got a hat," Snafu points out, flicking the little green helmet on the duck's head.

Eugene rolls his eyes, "This and the big one in front of us could be cast from the same mold except for size."

"What, you think I oughta  _ curb _ my enthusiasm?" Snafu taunts.

Eugene looks at him deadpan.

"Get it?" Snafu nudges him with his shoulder, "Cause we're sitting on a curb?"

"Oh good lord," Eugene puts his head in his hands.

Snafu laughs.

He doesn't laugh for long because Eugene removes his head from his hands, cups them around Snafu's face, and pulls him into a soft kiss.

And if Snafu failed to mentally prepare himself for the excitement of seeing the world's largest rubber duck, he certainly didn't prepare himself for  _ this. _

It's wonderful. And suddenly it makes sense. All that affection, rattling around in Snafu's empty tin heart like glass marbles. It didn't have anywhere to go. But now it does.

He still doesn't know what to do with his hands.

So he clasps them on his knees, leans in as close as he can get while staying seated on the curb, and lets Gene kiss him.

They sit there necking so long they miss the sunset. It's twilight by the time Eugene pulls away. He doesn't go far, keeps his hands on Snafu's face, and caresses Snafu's cheek as if unwilling to actually part from him.

"Gene," Snafu breathes.

Eugene smiles.

The dog wakes up from where he was sleeping behind them and sits straight so he can rest his head on Eugene's shoulder. Gene laughs, takes the Marine Corps rubber duck from Snafu's hands, and tosses it a few feet away.

The dog immediately becomes alert. Freddie watches the rubber duck fly, watches it bounce to the ground, watches it stop moving, then slowly trots over, picks up the duck in his mouth, and slowly trots back. Freddie sets the rubber duck in Eugene's lap, lies down across both of their feet, farts, and then goes to sleep.

"I think we've accidentally adopted an old dog," Snafu observes.

Eugene grins and leans in closer to Snafu's side. Eugene's arm wraps around Snafu's waist and he kisses his neck before settling his head comfortably against Snafu's shoulder.

"I think we can teach him new tricks," Eugene says, patting the dog on the back.

"In Mobile or New Orleans?" Snafu asks.

"New Orleans," Eugene replies, "But not before Sid's wedding in a few months. You'll have to come to mobile for that."

"Good thing Alabama's on the way," Snafu drawls.

"Yeah," Eugene laughs, "Good thing."

"I ain't gonna be the most agreeable person to have in the wedding party, Sledgehammer," Snafu warns. He lights a cigarette and turns so the smoke doesn't blow in Eugene's face.

"Me either," Eugene says.

Snafu snorts, "Naw, you're always a delight."

"Not always," Eugene says, a little more seriously, "Not always."

Snafu pulls away. He doesn't stand because he doesn't want to disturb the dog, but he moves enough that Eugene takes his hands off him. Because it's not the same. It's not the same and he needs to convince Eugene somehow.

"Why don't you find a nice girl, Gene?" Snafu asks, "Someone who could be a bridesmaid. Or a bride."

"You sound like my mother," Eugene complains, "I don't want some girl. Never have." He stays quiet for a minute and then voices his own insecurities, "Have you? I mean, I know you used to flirt with all the girls on the journey home…"

"Never have wanted one either," Snafu says.

"Then why…?"

"T'make you glare at me," Snafu smirks, "Make you jealous. Always figured it was me getting the girls you were jealous of though."

"Nope," Eugene sighs, "Afraid it was the other way around. Didn't like that the girls got you"

Snafu laughs. They sit quietly while he finishes his cigarette and the last bit of light fades from the sky. Somewhere behind them a street lamp turns on and illuminates the giant rubber duck in an eerie orange glow.

"Shit, it got uglier," Snafu drawls.

Eugene's shoulders shake with laughter. Snafu likes how the movement transfers into his own body. He likes how close they've drifted together again. Like they can't keep apart, even when not deliberately touching.

"Always knew I wanted you, Snaf," Eugene says.

That's a sobering thought - Eugene wanting him. 

"Situation Normal All Fucked," Snafu says. He leans as close to Eugene's face as he can get and smiles at him, "I guess if you leave out the 'up' my nickname could be fun."

He can't imagine how he could be of any use to Gene. Aside from the obvious. It'd be a lie to say he never recognized the heat in Eugene's eyes when he looked at Snafu.

He tells Eugene as much, while also trying not to say anything.

"Oh for goodness sake," Eugene says, "I don't love you because you're useful. That's not how it works."

Eugene kisses him quiet. And this time Snafu holds his chin and kisses him back.


End file.
